


A Pretty Blue Bow

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Aprons, Butts, Cooking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming home to his camper after a day of work, Sniper is surprised to find Engie had beaten him there, and has decided to treat him to dinner and a show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pretty Blue Bow

**Author's Note:**

> A TF2 Prompt Fest Fic. Based on the prompt:  
> Sniper/Engineer - Engineer in an apron, cooking for Sniper

Long shadows accompanied Sniper on the short walk between the base and where his camper van was parked. The sun was low in the sky, a long day's work finally in the books. His card punched, Sniper returned to his home away from the base, where he could have his privacy, his personal island secluded from the world.

When he grasped the handle of his camper's door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, and found the knob willing to turn, his eyes went wide. It was unlocked.

He always locked his van.

Turning the handle slowly, he opened the door the barest crack, welcomed by the smell of onions, cooking beef, and something earthy that quickly registered as mushrooms. He stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and stopped dead.

At the small hot plate on a shelf the Australian called his kitchen, Engineer stood. He wore a light blue apron, tied in a generous bow at the back, which sat comfortably just at the top of his ass. His ass which was very, very bare. In fact, save the apron, he wasn't wearing a scrap of clothing. He was all smooth, scarred skin, soft, straight body hair, and firm, round backside, humming softly as he worked.

Sniper gaped for a bit, trying to find his voice, eyes glued to that perfect bottom, when he was cut off by Engineer. “Evenin', Stretch! Got in a little earlier'n you, so I figured I'd come on down to the van and treat ya tonight.”

“This some sort of,” Sniper licked his chapped lips, his mouth filling with saliva, “special occasion?”

“Shoot naw. Been fixin' to cook us up some steaks sometime soon, and it took you so long to pack up today, I figured it would be perfect timin'. I got some ribeyes here. Mushrooms, onions, jus' how you like.” He turned to look over his shoulder, blue eyes meeting the bushman's as he smiled broadly, turner in hand. “Best get out 'a those work duds and wash up, darlin'.” He turned back to his work, resuming his humming.

Hanging his hat on the hook beside the door, Sniper removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the akubra's band, taking a deep breath of the savory aroma. His eyes hadn't left Engineer. They followed the curve of his backside up over that pretty blue bow, framing it in a way that was so cute as to be obscene, and up the lines that flexed in the mechanic's back as he worked. He was broad and stout, and he was packed with muscle, betrayed by the small, soft gut he bore around front. Thick, strong arms worked with practiced economy of motion, small flicks and stirs and gentle movements that made his forearms, coated up the backs of his hands in dark, soft hair, flex in ways that made Sniper want to caress them with his lips. Not so much to kiss, but to feel.

It's what he wanted. He wanted to feel Engineer. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of that small, handsome Texan, to trace every line and ridge with his lips, his tongue, and memorize every last detail of that body until it was perfectly engrained in his mind. He wanted to bite the thick muscle at the junction of shoulder and neck, leave marks on him that spoke of possession, and press their bodies together so close they may meld into one creature. But mostly, he wanted to squeeze that perfect, round ass, with its pretty blue bow sitting above it, and growl into his lover's ear as he took it, sliding in deep to the root and fucking that immaculate backside until Engineer was a moaning, shivering mess beneath him, soiling that cute little apron with come.

“Truckie,” Sniper gasped, unbuttoning his shirt, “you're going to want to take that food off of the heat. It's going to burn.”

“Don't you worry, it's got long about three or four minutes left on it,” Engineer assured him with a smile and a wiggle of his bottom.

A broad, calloused hand found its way to the curve of that ass, grabbing roughly and squeezing, bringing the smaller man up onto his tip-toes with the force of it. “You ain't quite followin' me, love. I intend on taking more than three or four minutes,” the bushman growled, lips so close that the mechanic could feel the moisture of his breath on the shell of his ear.

The tell-tale click of the hot-plate being turned off, followed by the pan's placement on a pot holder beside the device were all of the response Engineer could muster before he was tugged from his feet to the floor of the camper in a flurry of groping hands and roving lips.


End file.
